Page 68 of Broken Pact

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. I rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes. “You’re safe with me,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “I protect what’s mine, and you, Coraline Carter, are mine.”

She shakes her head again with a watery chuckle, a tear spilling over. “My pretend boyfriend.”

I catch her tear with the tip of my tongue. She’s not really ready to hear about all of my not-pretend feelings when it comes to her. And tonight is not the night to dive into it.

I pull back and look between her eyes. There’s a little less fear there than when she first got here. “You up for a ride? I want to take you somewhere.”

“Where?” she asks with a sniff and a small smile.

“My house.”

Her brows knit together. “I thought this was your home?” Her voice is soft, uncertain.

I flash her a small smile at the reminder of how much we have left to learn about one another. “Nah, this is my room in the clubhouse. My actual house is in Avalon Falls. On one of the small chain lakes.” I pause, searching her eyes. “You up for it?”

She bites her lip, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” she whispers.

Relief floods through me, and I settle my hands on her waist and pull her in for a hug. I squeeze her, savoring the feel of her in my arms. The way she feels so fucking perfect in my arms.

My lips press against her forehead, a silent promise. I won’t let anything happen to her again. Not now, not ever.

33

CORALINE

I don’t get to enjoy being on Jasper’s motorcycle like I normally would, my mind is too busy spinning around and around. I’m almost positive I’m one intrusive thought away from spinning right off the edge of a cliff. The only thing that stops me from plummeting into the unknown is that it’s unknown. I’m in enough uncharted territory as it is, I can’t afford to let myself completely spiral out of control.

Control. God, what a fucked up thing that is. The idea of it, my relationship with it, the very understanding that I’ll never have it. I wish I was more like my siblings that way, able to let other people step in and take control of everything. But I . . . I’ve never been able to do that.

But I’m so tired of always trying to wrangle control. The bakery, my roommates, my friends and family dynamic—everything. I’m always the go-to person. I never minded the role, and I always thought it played to my strengths. But my go-to person was Nana Jo. And without her, I . . . I don’t know where to go.

And yet, I drove right to the compound—to Jasper—tonight without even realizing it. I know this thing between us is fake, but it feels right tonight.

The barbed whip of shame twists against my neck when I try to envision what my family would say if I showed up at their doorsteps tonight instead. My brothers, if they’re even home, would either overreact or lose their minds and go out and do something stupid that landed them in jail. My parents would be so disappointed if they knew I didn’t utilize a single self-defense move tonight. And my mom—god my mom would never spend a single minute not worrying about me for the rest of her life. And I just can’t . . . I can’t do it.

The bike slows, but Jasper’s big palm doesn’t move from its place wrapped around my thigh. I know he did it because he was worried I wasn’t going to stay on the bike otherwise. But I don’t even care. For tonight, I’m going to pretend he left his hand there because he wanted to touch me.

We turn down a tree-lined driveway, his headlights illuminating the wooded area on one side and the clear, meadow-like grass on the other. Without the wind whipping around us, I can hear just how loud the engine is. It sounds like some kind of growling beast prowling down the driveway.

The headlights illuminate a stunning two-story A-frame. I get just a glimpse of it before he follows the curve of the driveway and pulls into the garage, right next to the truck.

He shuts off the bike, and we sit like that for a moment. His boots planted on the ground, his hand on my thigh. My arms around his waist and my chest pressed to his back.

His fingers flutter against my leg. “You good, baby?”

I take it as my cue. I take my time sitting back and pulling my hands from him. I know I’m not feeling myself because I don’t even care that he picked up on my reluctance to let him go.

“Yeah.” It comes out more of a sigh.

I feel his smooth, low chuckle right in the chest.

“Take your time getting off, yeah?” He holds out his hand for me to grasp.

My fingers flex as I slip my hand in his outstretched one. For a second there, I could almost imagine him saying those words under a completely different context. “I can’t believe I didn’t know you lived out here,” I murmur, getting off his bike.

“Why would you?” He takes off his helmet and stands up at the same time. Swinging a leg over his bike, he drops his helmet on the seat.

“I don’t know,” I murmur, fiddling with the helmet. “Because we, you know.”

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